


The Story of Olga Foroga

by melimarron



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Arson, Assassination Attempt(s), Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Mentioned Diego Hargreeves, Mentioned Luther Hargreeves, Mistaken Identity, Still not good at crack, courtesy of luther and diego, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25664398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melimarron/pseuds/melimarron
Summary: Was anyone else curious about Olga Foroga, the old lady Luther and Diego accidentally threatened in episode seven? Because I was.Welcome to a day in the life of Olga Foroga, retired assassin for hire.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 142





	The Story of Olga Foroga

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of this at 11 PM last night and then wrote it in an hour.

Olga Foroga was not one to leave dramatic messages in blood at the site of a crime.

Her neighbors would tell you she was a quiet old woman, one who smiled at children and pet her cats and was, overall, quite an agreeable neighbor.

Her husband (who had been dead for six years, rest his soul) would tell you she was a lovely woman who made the best pies and always tried to give a helping hand.

Her friends, those who were still alive, would tell you that she was funny and witty and could occasionally be wise, though less so since she’d started forgetting things in her old age.

Yet Olga Foroga was none of those things, not originally.

* * *

She’d thought she could leave it all behind when she married Mark Foroga.

Mark had been a decent young-ish man, entirely unstained by the world. He’d fought in World War Two, and she had been there as a nurse. They’d met when she had been mistakenly assigned to him, instead of the injured captain of the Army. She’d fixed him up and sent him back out, and when the war was over, he’d sought her out and, after a long courtship, they had been married.

She’d quit her job a few weeks before they’d gotten married, and had done everything in her power to stop it from following her into her new life. Sure, they sent people after her, claiming she was a “loose end” or “one of our best, what the hell, Olga, you can’t leave like that”, but she had rather firmly stopped those people from ever bothering her again.

Living a quiet life was actually rather peaceful, once one got past all the boring parts. Honestly, the yearly assassination attempts were the highlight of her year- though she’d had to work hard to conceal them from Mark when he had been alive.

This year’s assassination attempt should be occuring soon.

Olga hummed to herself as she poured herself a cup of lemonade. It was a hot day, and lemonade seemed like just the thing to relax. She could sit on her couch, sip lemonade, and keep an eye out for young men or women who looked nervous or out-of-place through the window.

Just as she’d thought, a terrified looking boy walked up to her house. He looked to be in his early twenties, and was wearing an unseasonal jacket made it obvious that he had a gun.

There was a crisp knock at the door, and Olga, still sipping at her lemonade, went to answer it with the most harmless-looking smile she could conjure.

“Olga Foroga?” the boy asked when she opened the door.

“Yes?”

“ _The_ Olga Foroga?”

“Ah, yes.”

The boy nodded to himself, then pulled out his gun and pulled the trigger.

Olga was already dodging. The bullet slammed into her best vase and shattered it, much to her displeasure. _Children are so sloppy these days._

She threw her lemonade, vase and all, at the boy’s face.He shouted and scrubbed at his eyes, while she ran for the nearest weapon. Where could she find a good weapon?

Oh, yes. The living room.

“You were one of the best!” the boy shouted, following her in. “You’re a loose end!”

“I defected before you were born, you little twerp!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

Olga made it to the living room and shoved her hand into the couch. She pulled out a knife. “You want to try to shoot me again?”

The boy tried to shoot her again.

His shot went wide when Olga threw the knife.

It _thunked_ into a lung, and the boy collapsed.

Olga was on top of him as fast as she could get there, and yanked the knife out. She slashed at his stomach.

The boy had sticky hair from the lemonade. Olga sniffed. It had worked well as a distraction, but now it was _everywhere_.

He coughed up blood underneath her, and squirmed. _Persistent little idiot._ Olga stabbed the boy again for good measure.

He went still.

The phone was ringing.

Olga turned away from the still-warm corpse and picked it up. It was probably one of those telemarketers again. She’d have to get stern.

The voice on the other end sounded nervous. “Uh, hello, Olga?”

“This is she,” Olga said, fingering the knife with one hand.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Um, I was just wondering-” There were the sounds of a scuffle in the background, and Olga relaxed.

It was just an innocent young man, calling for… whatever reason. Olga smiled, not taking her eyes off the corpse. “What’s your name, young man?”

“My name? Is, uh, Luther Hargreeves, and-”

The voice cut off, and a new voice replaced it. “You killed one of ours, Olga,” the new man rasped. “Now we’re coming after you.”

Olga tensed, staring down at the corpse. _They care about their dead agents now?_

“You will be _dead_ by _nightfall_ ,” the voice snarled.

Olga could feel the blood draining from her face. She wasn’t a young woman anymore. She’d barely survived one assassination attempt. She couldn’t handle two young men at once.

No, she had to leave. Escape, before the awkward young man and the menacing young man could find her.

She vaguely registered that one of the men said something else, but she didn’t pay attention. _Dead by nightfall._

She had to go. She had to run. No time to pack- she’d had a packed briefcase stuffed in the hall closet for years. All she had to do was grab it, make sure her best gun was properly cleaned, and run. She had money, weapons, and clothing stashed in the briefcase. She would be fine.

She would change her clothing somewhere discreet, then go to the weekly senior citizens’ bingo night at the old folks’ home. She never went there, so the assassins wouldn’t look for her there, and there would be witnesses.

Olga took a deep breath and looked down at the dead body on the carpet again. Ugh, he was staining everything. In her prime, she could’ve killed him without leaving a mark. Now…

Well, she’d had a good life in Texas.

Olga picked up her briefcase and headed for the kitchen. Mark had been a smoker, and she still had some lighters and matches left over, and she had some gasoline stuffed away just in case…

Cursing her aching bones, Olga splashed as much gasoline as she could over her old house, checked outside for witnesses, then lit a match.

The resulting explosion blew her out the front door, and she landed on the sidewalk, bones nearly snapping when she hit the ground. She cursed violently in Swedish, then looked around.

As usual, there were no witnesses.

Olga Foroga got up slowly and picked up her briefcase. She watched her house, slowly burning to the ground, and then, pushing away the terror, she turned around and slowly walked to the old folks’ home, briefcase clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

She had Bingo Night to win.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?


End file.
